


Itsy Bitsy Spider and the Final Girl

by reachingforthestardust



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Character Study, Final Girl, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Nursery Rhymes, Pre-Avengers (2012), Red Room, but neither is she a kind person, slashers, sort of inspired by cassie hack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachingforthestardust/pseuds/reachingforthestardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, she lived for the slashers, the final girl triumphing over the evil man in an unexpected twist, the young, helpless woman flipping gender roles on their backsides despite the sexual objectification she inevitably suffered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itsy Bitsy Spider and the Final Girl

_The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout_

Dark blue eyes surveyed the scene before them. Three men tied to chairs, gagged and bleeding. Just how they should be, scum like them. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t a mission. Strictly speaking, her superiors didn’t care, as long as she was thorough and didn’t get caught.

She never got caught.

Soft Russian broke the eerie silence of the dark warehouse. “Having fun, boys?” She always did like the classic lines, the ones that brought to her victims minds the memories of trashy b-grade films, especially the slashers. Oh, she lived for the slashers, the final girl triumphing over the evil man in an unexpected twist, the young, helpless woman flipping gender roles on their backsides despite the sexual objectification she inevitably suffered.

Whimpers from the men in front of her recalled her to the present. She smiled, running her fingers through her hair in a calculated move, oozing casualness and control. The whimpering intensified. Good.

The men would pay for what they did to the grocer’s daughter, defiling and violating her small youth, depriving her violently of the life she should’ve had.

It wasn’t fair - and so the justice they received would be equally… pleasurable for her. Their families would find their bodies in a few weeks, faces stretched in permanent terror, bodies deformed and mutilated in a way that indicated their suffering had been drawn out just as long as their brutal torment of the young girl they’d destroyed.

Oh, she was looking forward to this, lusting for the vengeance on behalf of the girl like she hadn’t yearned for years. Perhaps it was unprofessional. Perhaps it was okay to sometimes…let loose.

She smiled, stepping forward, her vicious glee artfully concealed.

“You didn’t answer my question, gentlemen, and that’s no way to treat a lady.”

 

* * *

 

_Down came the rain, and washed the spider out_

This time she would fail, she could feel it in her bones. Dread seeped into her dreams, and she knew her end was coming.

She had settled with her death a long time ago, when she’d killed her first man. When the Red Room had picked her up off the street, impressed by her untrained slaughter and the quiet rage that had torn her would-be rapist apart. She’d been seven, armed with only a shard of glass, delicate and deadly sharp, like its wielder.

But now, now she was scared, despite the cool façade she presented to the world, the lie that had never broken, that never would. She stood opposite her doom, chin raised high.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

She smiled delightedly at the blonde before her. He was a complete tragedy, had tripped five times on the stairs that led to the roof and wore a coffee-stained shirt, yet she knew he could tear apart with his bare hands, although he’d probably rather use his bow. She would let him, too, but apparently he was a contrary sort.

A final girl always knew when to act. And when to not. “I accept.”

The man smiled, and sunlight glinted off of the tips of his arrows. She almost felt like it was symbolic of the hope in her future. Then she dismissed the thought - nonsense like that was too unprofessional even for her.

 

* * *

 

_Out came the sun and dried up all the rain_

She was reeling, her cool veneer in tatters, and he could see right through it, she knew he could. But how could she explain, explain the world that had collapsed around her? She’d been so good, had tried so hard and still, still the gods were playing a joke on her. It wasn’t fair, she mused grimly, but then again, what was? Was it fair when she tore out the heart of the Ukrainian president’s wife? When she’d slaughtered the disabled son of the Australian Mafia’s boss?

Hydra: a many-headed serpent or monster in Greek mythology that was slain by Hercules and each head of which when cut off was replaced by two others.

How had she not known?

Then - dear lord, she would be ashamed of herself if she allowed herself to feel shame. She was the final girl, not the first to roll over and die. She would tear Hydra apart; she would do it with her bare hands and her spider’s bite. And she would enjoy it.

She smiled kindly at her friend, she had friends now, and he raised a fair eyebrow in question.

“Let’s hunt some orc.”

“I get that reference, you know.”  
“I know.”

 

* * *

 

_And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again_

She was old now, she knew logically, older than she had any right to be and still run in six-inch heels with the ease of a cat. That didn’t matter much in her line of work though - everyone knew better than to ask questions they didn’t want to know the answers to, and that was fine by her.

She smiled, teeth glinting in the dark light of the room.

Her victims gulped, all three bound and tied to chairs. It reminded her of a time, so long ago now she’d nearly forgotten , almost fifty years ago now. This was different, though. This wasn’t for fun, or for some misguided sense of justice, although she’d defend her actions until her death, she realised, her rage welling up inside her once more at the thought of the grocer’s only child, pale body mangled and broken almost beyond recognition, dumped in the village centre for all to look upon and judge.

She smiled, and the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

This was for the Avengers, no longer part of SHIELD, the organisation that had risen from the ashes of Hydra, a phoenix reborn from fire. The new building was really nice, very open and light, charming with an air of hope for the future. There wasn’t much of that these days, and that was what she really liked about the place. Apart from the lovely basement which she was currently utilising for her delightfully illegal yet overlooked adventures in the art of torture. She never claimed to be a very kind person, just a good one. Well, one who worked for good at the very least.

She tried hard not to think of the old saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  

The men in front of her were three who’d plotted to blow up a school. For fun, they’d claimed, just a little bit of fun. They hadn’t meant to get caught, is what that translated to. Well, they’d been caught, and now the kitty could play - only a little though. The Avengers needed them alive for the intel stored on chips implanted into their cerebellums.

She smiled again, and the youngest broke, tears trickling down his cheeks. Good.

She was the final girl, and she would always win.

 

 


End file.
